


I Wear This Face For Both Of Us

by carofnerds



Category: Amazing Spider-Man (2012), Deadpool (Comics)
Genre: Child Abuse, M/M, Mentions of Violence, Mentions of self-harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-09
Updated: 2012-08-09
Packaged: 2017-11-11 19:16:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/481949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carofnerds/pseuds/carofnerds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This costume is like the rest of him. Crudely sewn together like Frankenstein, covered up and hidden away, a monster.<br/>And then there's Peter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Wear This Face For Both Of Us

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Radical Face's 'Severus and Stone'
> 
> This fic is unbeta'd, so any constructive criticism would be great.
> 
> Enjoy~

Imagine wearing a skin that didn’t fit so you had to pin it to your organs and your skeleton with safety pins, and you were always just waiting for someone to tug too hard and for you to fall apart.

-

Wade’s repairing another costume between pages, crudely sewing up the pants leg in the dark, his mask obscuring his vision a little in the darkness of his New York hideout, and it hits him. This costume is like the rest of him. Crudely sewn together like Frankenstein, covered up and hidden away, a monster.

He considers plunging the needle into his own stomach then, just to see if maybe he can find the seams that hold him together.

Or maybe he could permanently sew his mask on, finally permanently attaching his true face for good to the hideously rupturing and resealing moonscape he has there instead.  
The voices stop him when he poises the needle point barely inches from his eyeball, and like many times before there’s another voice inside him. It’s a pathetic and weak voice. A child’s voice screaming for mercy.

He forgets that it used to be his own voice, cracked and broken like the bones were inside his small body as his father’s shadow retreats.

-

Imagine trying to speak but nobody can hear you or understand you, but you speak anyway just so maybe somebody will take notice and try and reply.

-

Deadpool is this idea that Wade’s built around himself like a pillow fortress.

But even the best built fortresses fall down.

Some of them even fall in on themselves, and their occupants.

Deadpool was meant to be something outside of Wade, something… Not better, but different. Stronger. More charming and desirable.

Even the best character has shades of his creator. Turns out, everybody hates Deadpool just as much as they hate Wade. To them, the indestructible devil-may care Deadpool is just another man to manipulate, a gambit in their games. He doesn’t have feelings, there’s too much a cold-blooded killer in him for that. 

Sometimes Wade punches asphalt until his gloves rip and his knuckles tear open just to try and destroy the Jekyll persona that’s hiding who is underneath. 

Because if anything, the creation of Deadpool’s been even more hateful than what’s left of Wade.

-

Imagine being given a tiny porcelain flower and being told to hold it in your hand at all times without even scratching or cracking or smashing it, and still having to maintain life as normal as you hold it.

-

He was on assignment in New York when he met Spider-man. He vowed never to buy a house there on principle because Spider-man was awesome but also a sanctimonious ass who didn’t appreciate his efforts to be a good man enough. Whatever a good man even is. Wade was just trying to wash his hands of the monster.

A few months later, he was on assignment in New York when he met Peter Parker and changed his mind.

Peter Parker, he was surprised to find out, was the same sanctimonious ass as Spider-man. But he was beautiful and perfect and fragile and Wade swore to himself he’d stay away before he ruined everything. 

Wade’s never been good with promises.

So he bought a cheap New York apartment not far out of Queens and began to take more and more New York jobs. He ran into Spider-man more and occasionally met Peter. Every meeting was like heroin, an addictive rush which boiled in his blood. Almost as good as a fresh killing.

Sure, Peter has some flaws; he has a darkness to him. He’s a kid who’s responsible for the death of the only father figure in his life. Wade can relate.

But Peter’s like a cherry blossom; delicate and temporarily present in the hell of Wade’s existence, and Wade knows if he grips too tight he’ll destroy Peter. Wade’s affections are like a poison seeping into all water surrounding it, killing whatever feeds from the tainted rivulets and springs.

Wade doesn’t want to watch Peter wither and die.

-

Imagine tracking a deer through a forest with nothing but a rifle and your own senses for company, but when you settle in for the night, the deer is the one who has hunted you down.

-

Peter’s not just fragile; he’s almost as crazy as Wade is.

Wade comes home from a job one day, because that’s what the New York apartment is these days; he hasn’t checked in on Al in weeks, and immediately can smell blood. It’s a sense well-honed from years and years of violence, one that alerts him to the fact that it’s not the perpetual scent of his own body cracking open and re-healing, or the one of blood that’s sunk into the walls and floor from where he’s crashed after losing a limb or an organ and waited for the healing factor to inevitably take hold and fix things. It’s a fresh spring he can smell, it’s small but enough to set his muscles rippling and ready for combat once again.

He grips his sword tightly as he moves towards the scent, the handles sliding in his gloved palms as he stalks his prey. It’s in his kitchen he finds them.  
Weasel’s lying on the floor, his glasses broken and askew, and his nose bleeding profusely. The other man, leant against the fridge with bloodied knuckles and a cocky smile, is Peter. Or Spider-man at least, as he’s costumed.

“Your little rat led me here,” he said, moving away from the fridge to square up with Wade. “Usually I’d be less loose with my punches, I’m a hero and all, but then again you and ‘Weasel’ here have more than enough blood on your hands.”

Wade sheathes his swords and throws his teleporter to Weasel, hissing for him to “Get the fuck out, you snitch, and you better return that thing or I swear this time I’ll gut you.”  
The second Weasel’s gone Peter pulls his mask off, and simply stares at Wade. The invasion of his privacy feels in parts violating and worrying. Peter’s waltzed into a death trap and this time Wade can’t do much to stop it.

It hurts because he tried so hard to keep Peter far enough away.

For once he can’t speak, and then Peter’s pulling off the Deadpool mask and revealing the monster lurking behind it.

Wade winces, hand on his guns, waiting for Peter to run.

Instead there’s the heat of a kiss and the weight of Peter’s body against Wade’s own, and suddenly the cavity in Wade that’s barely filled by sex and murder feels almost whole.

-

Imagine love, even though it’s just a fairytale, and maybe what you find is something like this.

**Author's Note:**

> In case you'd like to listen, I wrote this to these songs:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lFs3YUYnMMw  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tz_BfMQ5W7M  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L6STY_v3X6Y  
> (This album is basically my Wade feels album.)
> 
> As mentioned earlier, this is an unbeta'd fic so constructive criticism would be awesome.  
> Obviously comments, kudos, bookmarks and recs are appreciated immensely!
> 
> Thank you very much for reading!


End file.
